


But long as there are stars above you

by DesignatedGrape



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: First Christmas, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:46:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28236399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesignatedGrape/pseuds/DesignatedGrape
Summary: The bittersweet smell of hot coffee with caramel wakes him up. David's first instinct in the morning is usually to roll over and bury himself back under the covers, but beautiful people have always been his Achilles heel, and the beautiful man who he loves, who loveshim,is currently trailing kisses across his shoulder. So maybe sleep can wait.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 69
Kudos: 246





	But long as there are stars above you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Poutini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poutini/gifts).



> Merry (early) Christmas, friend! I hope you enjoy this bit of holiday fluff and smut.
> 
> Thank you to [Marleycat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marleycat) for the extremely helpful beta read. Any remaining mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Title is from "God Only Knows" by The Beach Boys.

The bittersweet smell of hot coffee with caramel wakes him up first. As David inhales deeply, willing the caffeine to transfer directly from the mug on the nightstand into his bloodstream without him actually being required to move, he feels strong arms tighten around his waist and a warm nose nuzzle against the back of his neck. His first instinct upon waking in the morning is usually to roll over and bury himself back under the covers, but beautiful people have always been David's Achilles heel, and the beautiful man who he loves, who loves _him,_ is currently trailing kisses across his shoulder. So maybe sleep can wait.

He hums contentedly and twists in Patrick’s arms, flipping over to face him and snuggling into his neck, and David sends a silent thank you to the universe for the fact that Ray’s Muslim family still gathers for a secular winter celebration that will keep Ray in Winnipeg for an entire week. 

David mouths along Patrick’s jawline, nipping lightly, and Patrick sucks in a sharp breath. He can feel Patrick’s growing erection through his sweatpants, and David lets out an appreciative groan as he smooths a hand along Patrick’s side, down to his hip, and around to grip his ass. David pulls Patrick into him, rocking his hips encouragingly. They kiss languidly, bumping noses and finding friction, until they are both achingly hard, and the need to come overwhelms the softness of the moment. 

Patrick leans away from David to retrieve the lube from his bedside table, and David takes the opportunity to wiggle out of his pajama pants and pull off his t-shirt. Patrick rolls back over, triumphantly holding the lube aloft, and hands it over to David. Patrick tugs his own shirt over his head and shoves off his pants as David clicks open the lube cap and spreads it across his belly. He gives his cock a few pulls to slick himself up, and then sits up to straddle Patrick’s hips. He drizzles more lube onto Patrick's stomach, snaps the cap closed, and tosses the bottle into the tangle of blankets that they’ve created at their feet. David drops his full weight onto Patrick—like he knows Patrick loves—and rolls his hips, sliding their cocks against each other. Patrick keens at the contact and meets him thrust for thrust, wrapping his arms around David’s back and digging his blunt nails into David's ribs so hard David is sure he is leaving gorgeous crescent-shaped divots on his skin. 

They’re moving in earnest now, breathing harder, their moans and gasps and the rustling of the sheets punctuating the otherwise quiet room. David feels the coil of his arousal tightening like a spring ready to pop, and he tugs gently on the short hair at the crown of Patrick’s head to warn him. Patrick only squeezes David tighter in response as Patrick's body tenses with what David knows is his own impending orgasm. Patrick groans long and low, pressing his hips up against David as his pleasure crests and coating both of their bellies and cocks with thick spurts of come. That’s all it takes for David to follow him over the edge, whining and shaking as Patrick holds him close.

They stay cuddled into each other, the warmth of their bodies keeping away the chill of the winter air rapping at the windows, until the come starts to cool between them and they admit defeat.

It’s David’s turn to reach into his nightstand, pulling out four of the wipes they keep there and handing two to Patrick so they can do a perfunctory clean up. David takes the wipes and tosses them into the wastebasket by the side of the bed before turning over to snuggle back into Patrick’s neck.

“Merry Christmas, Patrick,” he murmurs into the soft skin near Patrick's collarbone.

Patrick presses a kiss to the top of David’s head. “Merry Christmas, David.” 

\-----------

David’s coffee is past room temperature and well on its way to ice cold by the time he blinks his eyes open again. The pink floral wallpaper in Patrick’s room is illuminated by bright mid-morning sun, and David feels much more ready to start the day this time around. He glances over at Patrick's side of the bed and finds it empty, which is unsurprising at this hour. He stretches and swings his feet out of bed and goes on the hunt for his pajamas, still buried somewhere in the sheets, and then follows the smell of chocolate chip pancakes down the stairs and into Ray’s kitchen. Patrick is at the stove facing away from David, so David sneaks up behind him, wrapping his arms around Patrick’s chest and tucking his chin onto Patrick’s shoulder. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Patrick greets him, leaning his temple into David’s as he reaches out to flip the lightly bubbling pancakes. 

“Mmm, morning.” David stays barnacled to Patrick’s back, watching him attend to the pancakes for a moment, before asking, “So is this a Brewer tradition? Chocolate chip pancakes on Christmas morning?” 

David feels Patrick’s answering smile against his cheek. “No. We always had blueberry muffins and egg casserole growing up. I thought chocolate chip pancakes seemed like a more fitting David Rose Christmas breakfast.” He turns his head to peck David on the cheek and goes right back to cooking, as if he hasn’t just caused David’s heart to melt into a puddle at their feet. “Would you mind setting the table?”

David presses his nose affectionately against Patrick’s head and follows the motion with a kiss. He reluctantly pulls away to search for two plates that aren’t cracked, scratched, or mismatched, and repeats the process with mugs, forks, and knives. He grabs a jar candle from the coffee table and digs the placemats and cloth napkins out of the sideboard where he knows Ray keeps them, arranging everything until Ray’s dining room table looks passably festive. 

He walks back into the kitchen and finds Patrick bent over, pulling a tray of warm pancakes out of the oven. His gray sweatpants are slung low on his hips, leaving little to the imagination, and David takes a moment to unabashedly ogle his boyfriend’s ass. Patrick straightens up and turns to face him, and David quirks an eyebrow and shoots him a smirk.

“The table’s ready. I was just enjoying the view.”

“Were you?” Patrick sets the tray of pancakes on a trivet on the counter and stalks over to David, wrapping his arms around his waist and leaning up for a kiss. Patrick teases his tongue between David’s lips, and David opens for him eagerly; they kiss wantonly, enjoying the blessed privacy of a rare morning alone. After a minute, Patrick nips at David’s lower lip and pulls away. David chases him, but Patrick is too fast, and David whines in protest. Patrick gives him a swat on the ass as he walks back over to the counter. “Pancakes are getting cold, David.”

David pours the coffee and tea while Patrick pulls a bottle of actual champagne out of the fridge for mimosas, and they drink and eat and talk and laugh, trading kisses between bites of food. It’s not even 11 a.m., and it’s already the best Christmas David has ever had.

\-----------

“Ugh, who would ever cheat on Emma Thompson? She is an international treasure. Doesn’t Alan Rickman—may he rest in peace—know what he has right in front of him?” They’d showered and changed after breakfast, and now they're lying on Ray’s living room couch with David sandwiched between Patrick and the back cushions, his head pillowed on Patrick’s chest. David feels Patrick’s chuckle reverberate where David’s ear is resting, and he picks up his head to glare at him. “Are you laughing at this injustice? Because I have to tell you, Patrick, I thought I had taught you better by now about respecting great female actors.”

Patrick just smiles and shakes his head. “No, I’m not laughing at Emma. I’m laughing at you.” He stretches up to kiss David’s furrowed brow. “I appreciate all of your strong and very correct opinions about _Love Actually._ Especially the one about Keira Knightley and the creepy best friend.”

David pushes himself up so he can free his hands to gesticulate at a level appropriate to the crime. “He didn’t even tell her he had feelings for her! He just filmed her _at her wedding_ and _kept the footage_ like some crazy stalker.” He waits expectantly for the appearance of Patrick’s clenched jaw and pouty lower lip, the signs that indicate his outrage, but instead Patrick is just looking at him with that adorable little upside-down smile and what Stevie and Alexis always call his heart eyes.

“I love you, David.”

And, well. It’s hard to stay indignant after that. David melts back down onto Patrick and kisses him softly. “I love you, too.”

They settle back in to finish the movie. Twenty minutes later, once Natalie and Hugh Grant reunite at the airport, “God Only Knows” swells and fades out, and David finishes wiping away his tears, Patrick asks, “How do we feel about presents?”

David feels _great_ about presents, in fact. Not just receiving them, because obviously, but also because he actually found something perfect for Patrick, the master of thoughtful gift-giving.

“Yes. I have yours upstairs in my bag.”

David trips up the stairs, which Patrick of course notices and laughs at, and David loves him so much he could burst. He’s more careful on the way down, though. 

David moves their empty hot chocolate mugs to the side and places the kraft paper box affixed with a velvet burgundy bow on the coffee table, before sitting on the couch facing Patrick and drawing his legs under himself.

“Who first?” Patrick asks.

“Me.” David picks up the box again and hands it to Patrick. David watches as he opens it and pulls out the folded paper that David had unfortunately needed to print on the motel’s ancient dot matrix monstrosity. Patrick’s face morphs from curiosity to confusion before understanding blooms and his features soften.

“David. This is amazing.”

“I saw that the Elmdale Art House was putting on a queer film festival next month, and it just seemed like something you’d enjoy. Like something we could enjoy together. Some of the local restaurants are going to have specials, and there’s going to be a little indoor fair with organizations that cater to or are part of the queer community...it’s sort of like a mini pride festival, but in January.”

Patrick leans forward to kiss him soundly, and when they pull apart, Patrick's eyes are shiny with emotion. “I, um, I’ve never really been around a lot of queer people all in one place before. Not knowingly, anyway. Not with any kind of intention. So this is...this will be really nice.” He blinks away invisible tears. “Thank you.”

David draws him in again with a hand wrapped around the back of Patrick’s neck and rests their foreheads together. “You’re welcome. I’m so excited to be there with you, honey.”

Patrick takes a deep breath and presses another kiss to David’s lips, and then puts the box back on the coffee table and twists to find his own present hidden behind a throw pillow. He holds it out to David, a bashful smile on his face and a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

“This seems so inconsequential in comparison, but I hope you like it anyway.”

David takes it from Patrick and unwraps it carefully, trying not to tear the silver wrapping. He unfolds the piece of paper he finds inside. “Two nights at a spa in Elmbridge?”

“Yeah. I looked at all the reviews and pictures, and it seems really nice. And I already talked to Stevie and Alexis about watching the store for us. We have to pay Stevie with a case of wine and pay Alexis with lip balms and body milk, but I thought it was worth it for us to be able to have an actual weekend away together. Even if it’s just to Elmbridge.”

“Mmm, _yes._ " David shimmies his shoulders. "I can think of many, many ways to make our trip worth the cost of some wine and skincare."

Patrick flashes him a lascivious smile, but it quickly turns tentative as he looks down and kneads the muscle at the base of his thumb. “And um, I also thought...I know you and Stevie went to another spa when...you know. Rachel. And I just thought it might be nice if we made some different memories. Together.”

David squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head to the ceiling, composing himself. It still takes him by surprise sometimes how much Patrick cares for him, loves him. How months after Rachel, long after everything has been forgiven, he still wants to make everything okay; wants to, for some reason, prove that _he_ is worthy of _David,_ as if anyone has ever even thought that way before, much less wanted to give him meaningful gifts and experiences to show it.

When David speaks again, his voice is thick with emotion. "Yeah. Um, that will be really nice. Thank you, Patrick."

Patrick takes the box and the paper gently from David’s hands and places them on the coffee table, and then leans back against the arm of the couch and stretches out one of his legs along the cushions. He tugs David forward, and David settles into the V of his hips, bracing his hands against the armrest behind Patrick as Patrick snakes his hands up under David’s sweater. 

Patrick tastes like Christmas—hot chocolate and peppermint schnapps—and kissing him feels like being wrapped in a warm blanket on a snowy afternoon. Patrick kisses like he loves: sometimes sweetly, with soft presses of lips and slow slides of his tongue, his thumbs caressing David's jaw or rubbing circles on the jut of his hip bone; sometimes teasingly, giving little pecks and pulling away, forcing David to chase him and rewarding him with a nip of his lower lip when he captures Patrick's mouth again. It's intoxicating, and it makes David dizzy with want.

David can feel Patrick hard through his jeans, so he works a hand between them to stroke his cock over the rough fabric. Patrick ruts up against his palm, jaw slack, and David licks into his mouth as he reaches for Patrick's belt buckle.

"When do you need to meet up with your family again?” Patrick asks between kisses.

David freezes and gapes at him. “Are you seriously bringing up my family right now?”

“I’m seriously wondering exactly how much time I have with you so that I can make the most of it.”

"Ah." David shoots him a wink. "Well, in that case, we're supposed to have an early dinner at the motel. My dad is going to go pick up Chinese takeout from the good place in Elmdale, in keeping with the great and noble Christmas traditions of my Jewish ancestors. But I'm pretty sure Alexis is spending the day with Ted, so I think we're in the clear until then."

"Mm." Patrick leans in for another kiss. "Good." He wriggles out from under David and stands to face him. 

Patrick looks debauched: collar askew, belt unbuckled, pants tented obscenely. David is pretty sure he doesn't look much better, himself. Patrick holds out a hand to help David off the couch, and then chases him up the stairs, pinching his hips and swatting at his ass the whole way. David squawks in mock protest, but doesn't do anything to stop him until they reach the top, when he spins to grab Patrick by the buttons on his shirt and reel him in for a bruising kiss.

They stumble into Patrick's bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded clothing in their wake. (The schnapps is barely even a memory at this point, so maybe they’re just a little bit drunk on each other.) Patrick slows their pace to take off David’s sweater, folding it gently and placing it on the dresser as he always does, before turning back to keep kissing David. They’re down to just their underwear now, and Patrick toys with the waistband of David’s boxer briefs, teasing his fingers along the sensitive skin until he finally, finally hooks his thumbs into the fabric and tugs them down. David's cock twitches at the sight of Patrick crouched at his feet, gazing up at him through his lashes. Patrick kisses each of David’s thighs, and David dutifully steps a foot out of his underwear with each press of Patrick’s lips. Patrick stands and unceremoniously shoves his own boxer briefs down, and then walks David backward to the bed until the backs of his knees bump up against the mattress. Patrick pushes him down with one hand pressed against his chest, and David shuffles towards the pillows as Patrick climbs up to straddle him.

Patrick tips forward to nudge his nose against David’s. “Hi, baby.”

David chuckles. “Hi, yourself.” He kisses Patrick softly, rubbing his hands up and down Patrick’s arms. 

“I really want to ride you. Is that okay?” Patrick asks.

"Mmm, I guess I can be amenable to that," David teases, and Patrick grinds his ass against David’s cock in retaliation. David throws his head back and moans at the contact, and he immediately feels Patrick’s tongue lick a firm stripe up his neck and then trace the shell of his ear. Patrick exhales with a warm breath, and the dual sensation of hot and cold sends goosebumps rippling across David’s skin. He shivers and wraps his arms around Patrick to pull him closer, and Patrick huffs a laugh into David’s neck as he bites and sucks at David’s pulse point. 

“God, Patrick.” He can’t help but thrust up, instinctively seeking friction, and Patrick pulls back with a _tsk._

“Patience, David,” he admonishes, smirking. 

Patrick climbs off of David to retrieve the lube from the nightstand, and he sits back on his heels as he squirts some into his hand. Patrick reaches to open himself up, letting out a contented sigh as he pushes a finger in, and David can’t do anything but watch, enraptured. David grabs the bottle of lube from where Patrick had tossed it on the bed and strokes his own cock lazily as Patrick adds a second finger, and then a third, until he’s panting and moaning, his cock jutting out red and angry. Patrick pulls his fingers out and wipes them on his thigh, and levels David with a look of pure lust, his pupils blown wide.

David knows that look. He scrambles to dig a condom out of the drawer and rolls it onto his cock, and Patrick slicks him up with more lube as he swings a leg over David’s thighs. Patrick lowers himself onto David, inch by torturous inch, until he’s fully seated, and they groan in unison. Patrick braces his hands on David’s chest, his fingertips brushing David’s nipples and sending delicious jolts of arousal through David’s body. 

Patrick likes to be in control when he’s riding David, rocking back and forth and pistoning up and down, thighs clenching with the effort, teasing himself and seeking pleasure, as if David is just a cock there for him to use. In David’s former life, this kind of sex would have triggered every insecurity, every self-deprecating thought he’d ever had, to come rushing to the forefront. But with Patrick, David _loves_ this, loves watching Patrick let go and make himself feel good, because David trusts— _knows—_ that they are here together.

Patrick keeps his eyes locked on David's, bringing him into his own ecstasy, breaking David's gaze only when Patrick finds the exact right spot inside that makes him gasp and screw his eyes shut from the force of his arousal. Patrick is the most gorgeous thing David has ever seen, and it takes every morsel of control he has not to flip them both over so he can fuck Patrick into the mattress the way David knows he loves. 

After a while, though, even Patrick’s thick thighs from years of baseball and hockey can’t keep up the pace anymore, and Patrick whimpers, pleading. “ _David..._ ”

“Shh, I’ve got you.” David bends his knees to plant his feet on the bed, knocking Patrick back down to within kissing distance, and how can he resist those soft lips? David pulses his hips without breaking the kiss, fucking into Patrick and trapping his cock between their bellies. Patrick kisses back hard, his tongue matching the rhythm of David’s thrusts, letting out gorgeous little whines and gasps and digging his hands into David's hair. The slide of his cock in and out of the tight heat of Patrick's ass is delicious, and David does his best not to come on the spot, but two sharp tugs on his hair from Patrick send David hurtling towards the finish line. Luckily, Patrick is right there, too.

“Oh god, fuck, fuck, fuck! David!” And he’s coming between them, his ass clenching around David’s cock. David comes with a cry, filling the condom as he grips Patrick’s hips tight.

Patrick dismounts carefully before collapsing half on top of David. David reaches to remove the condom and toss it into the wastebasket as smoothly as he can to avoid disturbing Patrick too much, but they’re covered in come and lube and sweat, and this situation is going to need a lot more than a wipe to take care of.

“Patrick.” David squeezes his shoulder.

“Mmmmmph.”

David laughs. “Come on, honey, we need to shower.”

“Mmmmmph.”

“I know you don’t want to, but we have to.”

“Mmmmmph?”

“No, we can’t just live here now. You already live here, and that’s torture enough.”

“Mmmmmph.”

David can hear the frown in that one. “Yes, yes, Ray is very nice. But if you’re still lying here naked when he gets home in a few days, he _will_ walk in without knocking, and he _will_ want to have a full conversation with you while you still have an ass full of lube.”

“Mmmmmph.”

“That’s what I thought. Come on.” David slaps Patrick lightly on the butt and heads to the bathroom to start the shower. He knows Patrick will be along any minute. 

\--------

"I actually have one more gift for you," Patrick says later, after they’ve showered for the second time that day, put their underwear back on, and snuggled back under the covers. (He had regained the power of speech sometime between shampooing and conditioning.)

David sits up and throws his hands in the air in frustration. "Oh my god. The _one time_ I actually find a gift good enough to match yours, and now you have _another_ one?"

"Aw, I'm glad you're so excited, David! I'll go get it." David pouts at him and crosses his arms as Patrick pads to the dresser in nothing but his boxer briefs. "No, no, don't get up. I know you can hardly wait, but I'll be right back."

David scowls and sticks out his tongue. Patrick laughs as he turns away to open the top dresser drawer, and David can't help but smile at the sound. Patrick returns to the bed holding a small burlap gift bag tied with a black ribbon, but he doesn't hand it over right away.

"So I know you asked about the pancakes before, but this actually is a Brewer family tradition. Each Christmas, everyone would get an ornament that represented something important from that year. My parents always bought mine, obviously, so they're all baseball, or music, or whatever I was into that year. I think I have a Power Rangers one mixed in there somewhere."

"Hmm. I can't say I was ever into Power Rangers as a kid. I was much more invested in the cast of _Friends._ But I did like the theatrics and the spandex costumes."

"I think the ornament I have is the green one. He was always my favorite."

"Wasn't he the—" 

"The hot guy. Yeah. I know. Add it to the list of 'Things I Wish I'd Realized Literally Any Time Before I Was Thirty.'" He smiles wanly. "Anyway. I never bought ornaments for either of my parents; they always shopped for each other. And I don't really remember many of theirs, but I do remember that when they opened them, they always gave each other this soft look. It was just...it was so clear how much they loved each other." He smiles and looks up at the ceiling, lost in thought. "When we would decorate the tree and we were taking the ornaments out of their boxes, they would show each other all the ones they'd exchanged over the years and they'd look at each other in that same way. Even ten, twenty, thirty years into their marriage, they were still so in love. Are still so in love. So"—he hands the bag to David—"I wanted to get this for you. Something that represents us."

David's heart pounds as he opens the bag. Inside, wrapped in white tissue paper, is a circular wooden ornament with hearts artfully cut into the wood to create a lace effect. Across the center of the circle is an uncut band with a phrase pyrographed in neat script: _In your heart I see the start of every night and every day._

It's beautiful. David chokes back a sob, but he can't put words to his feelings yet. As he stares at the ornament in his hands, trying to puzzle together the scattered pieces of emotions in his brain, he hears Patrick speak again.

"Um, Sandra, you know, the vendor who makes the wooden cutting boards? She gave me the name of a woman in Thornbridge who does wood carving like this. We should...we should get in touch with her after New Year's about selling some of her products.” Patrick is babbling. He's nervous, David realizes. “I didn't mention the store to her yet, though. I just wanted this to be for you."

David finally looks up, then. Patrick's eyebrows are knitted together, and he's worrying the edge of the sheet between his fingers. He thinks he's done something wrong, which is the absolute polar opposite of what's happening in David's head right now, so he forces himself to speak.

"It's perfect,” David chokes out. “Thank you." David holds the ornament to his chest, over his heart, and Patrick's shoulders relax as a smile replaces his frown. "Did, um, did you always exchange ornaments with Rachel, too?" David asks.

"No," Patrick says simply. "I never wanted to with her."

"But...but you do with me."

Patrick leans forward and kisses him, and then pulls back to rub his hand across David's shoulder and down his arm. "But I do with you."

David waits for the panic to come, waits for the implication of those five words to settle heavy in his stomach, waits for his arms to push Patrick away and for his legs to jump out of bed. But it doesn't. They don't. He's okay. He's more than okay, in fact. Instead of anxiety, his stomach churns with hopeful butterflies. Instead of insecurity, his heart pounds with love and warmth. Instead of panic, his mind swims with images of a future with the sweet, thoughtful, amazing man in front of him. And instead of pushing Patrick away, his arms have a different plan.

David sets the ornament gently on the bed and wraps Patrick up in a hug. "I love you, Patrick."

One of Patrick's hands comes up to stroke the short hairs at the nape of David's neck, and David feels Patrick press a soft kiss to the delicate skin below his ear. "I love you, too."

They hold each other for a long while, long enough for their breathing to sync, and they rise and fall together with the motion of their inhales and exhales. The room is quiet except for the light rustling of the bare branches outside the window, and a hopeful thought tiptoes into the blissful silence in David's mind. Maybe this isn't just the best Christmas he's ever had. Maybe, maybe, it could be the start of a lifetime of Christmases, of watching movies, of cooking breakfasts, of cuddling on the couch and kissing in the kitchen. The start of a lifetime of beautiful memories just like this.

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't been reading [Poutini's Advent Calendar 2020](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27808693/), go now! It's full of tenderness, and smut, and tender smut, and smutty tenderness.
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](https://designatedgrape.tumblr.com/).


End file.
